Ryan arrived at Brenda’s townhouse, his jaw tight as he knocked on the door. It swung open to reveal Brenda, her face a storm cloud of anger and frustration. Her normally polished appearance was disheveled—hair pulled back loosely, makeup uneven, and her hand resting protectively on her growing belly.
“You’re late,” she snapped, stepping aside to let him in.
Ryan rubbed the back of his neck. “I had work, Brenda. I can’t drop everything—”
“You can’t drop everything?” Brenda cut him off, her voice rising. “I’m carrying your child, Ryan. Do you think I want to do this alone?”
Her words were sharp, but her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, revealing the vulnerability beneath the anger. Ryan exhaled, trying to temper his frustration.
“I’m here now,” he said evenly. “But let’s get something straight—this doesn’t mean we’re a family.”
Brenda’s eyes narrowed, her voice trembling with barely restrained fury. “You don’t get to choose when to be a father, Ryan. This isn’t something you can half-ass when it’s convenient for you.”
Ryan’s retort faltered, guilt gnawing at him. He thought of Damien’s cold questions, Debby’s wary trust, and Amelia’s fiery accusations. Everyone seemed to think he wasn’t enough. Maybe they were right.
Brenda stepped closer, her voice softening but no less cutting. “You think you’re stretched thin now? Just wait until this baby comes. You’ll have no choice but to make time.”
Ryan clenched his fists at his sides. “I’ll be there for the baby, Brenda. But don’t expect anything else.”
Brenda’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “We’ll see about that.”
***
Meanwhile, the elementary school buzzed with quiet energy as parents and teachers mingled after the art showcase. Amelia lingered near the snack table, watching Damien proudly show his painting to a group of classmates. Debby, still recovering from her hospital stay, leaned against her mother, clutching Bunny with one hand and a juice box with the other.
James approached, holding two cups of coffee. “For the guest of honor,” he said warmly, handing one to Amelia.
She took it, her smile shy. “Thanks. I didn’t think I’d make it through tonight without caffeine.”
James chuckled, leaning against the table. “You’re stronger than you think, Amelia. Not just tonight. I mean… everything you’ve been through. It’s obvious how much you’ve sacrificed for them.”
Amelia glanced at him, her defenses cracking under the sincerity in his tone. “I don’t feel strong most days,” she admitted, her voice quieter.
“You’re still standing,” James said, his eyes meeting hers. “That’s something to admire.”
Her gaze softened, and for a moment, the noise of the event faded into the background. “Thank you,” she said, her voice steadier now.
The moment was interrupted by Damien bounding over. “Mom! Mr. Hayes! Did you see my painting? The blue one with the robot!”
“We did,” James said with a grin. “It’s amazing, Damien. I think you’ve got a future as an artist.”
Damien beamed, his energy infectious. Amelia exchanged a look with James, their connection deepening with every passing moment. But as the evening wrapped up, Amelia couldn’t ignore the flicker of caution in her chest. It was too soon to let her guard down completely.